Not Your Ordinary Frog Princess
by Proud Titania
Summary: Her father is an evil wizard. His father is a man with too much power and sadistic ideas about marriage. An arrow and a chance meeting later, and magic starts happening! A retelling of the Russian fairytale the Frog Princess.
1. Just Shoot Me!

Disclaimer: I do not own Царевна Лягушка or any of its foreign counterparts… Which I have never actually heard or read, but I am told they exist. Hurrah for Russian fairytales!

Chapter One: Just Shoot Me! 

Irving was not very old at all. In fact, he had only just reached his sixteenth year. However, he had already learned a thriving Kingdom's how-to's and how-to-not's (although that last was very likely grammatically incorrect, Irving had never paid much attention to his Grammar Tutor).

For one thing, observation had taught him that being a King was not at all easy if one was to do it properly. However, he had never seen it done properly, as his father was a rather terrible King.

For another, there was such a thing as too much power and influence for a King. Tragically, his own father had most likely crossed into that territory and beyond.

And finally, Irving had noted, with great interest, that it seems that no matter what kind of King one is, one must always marry one's sons off, so that they have more sons to be Kings after them.

It was the continuation of this grand scheme for a steady stream of male progeny that prompted Irving's appearance in the grand throne room with his two older brothers. It was the first two lessons he had learned that made him so miserable, as he heard his father's scheme laid out.

Daniel, his eldest brother, who was twenty years of age, tried not to look as shocked as he felt when he heard his father's plan for finding a bride. Eric, the second-oldest at eighteen, was not as sophisticated as Daniel and had let his mouth fall slack as he listened to the task that was being explained.

As for Irving, well…

"So, what if we shoot some_body_ by accident?" he asked his father the King, sucking his teeth and crossing his arms.

King Dorian the Third shrugged his shoulders indifferently, as if to say, "Accidents happen."

"Well, what if… uh…" Irving frowned as he searched for the right words. "Well, let's say the wind should get the better of me and the arrow doesn't fly as far… only into Daniel's back, for example. Will I have to marry him?"

Irving raised his eyebrows to show his sincere interest in the answer to this question. Had Daniel been a dragon, metaphorically speaking, Irving would have been burned to a crisp. As it were, he only let some metaphorical steam rise from his flaring nostrils in Irving's general direction.

"Prince," King Dorian the Third said through clenched teeth, with all the dignity he could muster as he answered this remarkably stupid question, "You will shoot an arrow into the sky and the country where it lands will provide you with a princess to make your bride." There. Simple enough.

King Dorian the Third was rather proud of this idea. It would show his influence in the surrounding nations, strengthen his bloodline with powerful princesses, and perhaps be the start of a merger with other nations. Plus, he also loved the expressions on his sons' faces as he explained the scheme. That was always the best part of this sort of thing.

"But what if the princess is put off by a courting ritual of shooting arrows into her window and refuses to marry one of us?" Irving asked, perking up now that more foolish questions were coming into his head. As much as his father loved to shock the three of them, Irving loved to irritate his father.

"Enough, Prince Irving," the King said warningly, his nerves on edge.

"And what if you accidentally shoot the only princess in—?"

"SILENCE!" King Dorian the Third boomed, rising from his throne.

Nobody made a sound, except for a few birds that were flying by outside of the window, and King Dorian the Third even shot them a dirty look.

"Now, have you two understood?" he asked, after a long pause in which he rubbed his temples.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Daniel and Eric chorused.

"Then be off to fulfill my express desire, and take this fool with you," he moaned, indicating Irving with his forefinger.

"Jolly good, Your Majesty," Irving managed to say before his brothers quite literally lifted him from the floor and half-carried, half-dragged him from the throne room. "I suppose this is what they mean by hunting for a wife!"

It was a very good thing that Irving had not been in the throne room after he said that, because he might have found himself on the receiving end of an angrily-hurled scepter.

As it were, the closing door was the only thing that suffered the King's anger, and it didn't really mind much either way. Watching it splinter, King Dorian the Third wondered whether or not his idiot son would die soon by doing something incredibly foolish.

"He won't inherit," was the thought that kept him sane when he was reminded of why he never called Irving in for a chat. "He won't inherit."


	2. It's My Party

Chapter Two: It's My Party…

Lissa was feeling more than a little bit upset today.

"But, Father!"

Her father, however, did not even turn around to look at her again. He continued to walk away, and she reluctantly settled back into the grass.

"I. Hate. MEN!"

Lissa's voice would have echoed far and wide under different circumstances. Instead, it merely frightened away a small cricket resting on a blade of grass.

"What are you staring at?" she screamed at a small sparrow that was hopping by. The sparrow continued to hop, at an increased speed. It had never been yelled at by a frog before.

Yes, Lissa was, in fact, a frog. Through no fault of her own, she would tell you.

Or anyone, really. After about an hour of moping by the little mud puddle where her father had left her, she hopped over to a small pond and looked over into its glassy surface.

"Oh, really!"

Her tone was not so much shocked or frightened, as extremely irritated. The tone one might use with a child who has just eaten all of the jam preserves in the cellar. Life with a master magician had inured her to this sort of thing. She had quite literally lost a brother simply because her father had turned him into an ant and lost all trace of him. Her brother Matthew was currently her father's favourite and intended heir. Which meant that she had become the whipping boy. Girl. Whatever.

This time, it really was a stupid reason for turning her into a frog. Admittedly, she never liked being turned into anything, but frogs were particularly tricky. The amphibious aspect was always a difficult thing to get used to.

She thought back to the exact moment that her father had turned on her in a fury. Matty had gotten into the potions again, and destroyed some clever poison that was meant to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting peasant population downstream. Matty was only 16. Matty didn't mean to. But surely his eighteen year old sister had instigated it. That had been her father's reasoning, no doubt about it.

Needless to say, the next thing Lissa knew as she was walking through one of the fields near their house, gathering flowers, she was shrinking and turning quite green.

"Why is it always _me_?" she moaned to herself. She knew that answer to that, of course. Because her perfect older sister, Tati, had gotten married to a decent warlock from a distant city and she was still stuck with her father and brother, cooking for them, occasionally doing the dirty work her father required her to do… All for what?

Yes, Lissa was convinced. There was nothing worse than having a mad enchanter as your father. She wished that the villagers from around the area would grow backbones and rebel against him, but apparently that sort of thing was not something that these peasants wanted to do. Or maybe they were afraid to. She looked at her now vibrantly green skin.

Distracted for a minute, she barely noticed the sharp hum of an arrow flying into the nearby vicinity and was only startled as the arrow's tip struck the ground mere inches away from her.

What, was Matty "out hunting" again? She looked up, expecting to see her wicked brother's leering face, but only saw a fairly nice-looking freckled face.

"Well, look at that, nobody's here! What a shame!" the freckled boy said to his two taller companions in a sarcastic tone.

They laughed at him, and one cuffed his shoulder.

"Hey!"

"It's all in good fun, Ving."

Ving?

"I hate it when you call me that," the freckled boy said through clenched teeth.

"We know," the second of his companions chirped.

"So… No ladies hanging around here, eh?" the first companion, said to the freckled boy.

"No, I guess not." This Ving did not seem at all happy with his companions. Lissa suddenly spotted it. The resemblance. The thinly-veiled malice. These three were quite obviously brothers.

"So, can we go?" he whined.

"Not until we find you a woman to bring home."

"That is a terrible thing to say," he muttered to nobody in particular. "Women aren't property."

"Is your opinion, Ving, which is why you will never be married or inherit the kingdom. You'll be lucky if I let you continue to live in the palace when I inherit," the taller of Ving's brothers told him.

Lissa, meanwhile, was listening attentively. This Ving seemed nice, no matter how strange his name. At least he would probably treat her better than her father ever did, if she could be a girl again. Wait a minute…

"Oy!"

The three instantly looked down upon hearing the chipper, high-pitched voice coming from the grass.

Lissa flinched as they all three bent down to look at her. They were awfully big, now that she was so small.

"Did that frog just…?" the elder brother began to ask.

"Yes, she did." Lissa finished for him. Right. This bit was easy. Humans loved getting their wishes granted.

Ving's brothers stepped back a bit, fear in their eyes. Neat, thought Lissa. Superstitious folk. This would be easier than she thought.

"Ummm…" The Ving fellow was taking his own time starting up a conversation.

"Well, what exactly are you looking for?" she asked, as delicately as a talking frog could possibly do so.

Then, a great deal of laughter erupted from where the brothers had stepped back.

"_Her!_ Ha, ha, ha! You've got to marry _her_!" the brothers managed between staggered breaths.

"Oh." Lissa said in a very small voice. Ving's eyes widened a great deal.

"No, that can't be right…" he said desperately.

"Sorry about that…" Lissa tried to say, already hoping that she could hop away without humiliating the poor boy any further. His freckles had practically disappeared by now, hidden in his beet-red face, and he was muttering something very softly under his breath.

"No backing out of this one, little brother," one of his brothers said, coming up again. "Never thought I'd have a frog for a sister-in-law." Then, the two burst out laughing again.

The one called Ving reluctantly picked Lissa up and held her in his shaking hand very gently.

"Sorry," Lissa muttered softly to him, hoping that his cruel brothers wouldn't hear.

"Itdoesntmatter."

"Well, I don't quite understand _how _you intend to marry me," Lissa said, frowning as only a frog can. "I mean, oughtn't you just…? Nobody would force you to marry a _frog_." She was trying to point out the obvious.

"You haven't met my father," he answered back, shaking his head.

As the two continued on foot towards the castle, where Eric and Daniel's brides, beautiful princesses from nearby countries, were already waiting, one thought filled the head of both Lissa and Irving.

"Ugh."


	3. Til Death Do Ye Part

Author's Note: Sorry for the prolonged absence. Enjoy!

Chapter Three: 'Til Death Do Ye Part

Irving had never really considered his future very seriously. But he was having to confront it very rapidly. He stood stock-still under the heavy lamps at the altar and bit his lip.

"And do you, Prince Irving—" Here, the minister giggled softly. "Sorry, sorry. Do you, Prince Irving, take this—" Another giggle.

Somebody, probably the King, shouted "Go on!" from the front aisle of the church. The minister breathed deeply and started again.

"Do you, Prince Irving, take this… frog to be your lawfully-wedded wife?"

Irving wanted to disappear. Just to fall through the soft carpeting and never be seen by human eyes again. Or frogs' eyes, for that matter.

"Mmmh."

"Pardon?"

"YES! I said, yes!" Irving shouted, muttering to himself, "Like I have a choice."

Lissa heard this last and sighed. Things were not going according to plan.

"I now pronounce you Man and— Oh, I just can't say it!" the minister blurted, right before bursting out into hysterical laughter. The King's loud, horsey laugh soon joined the minister's, and soon the entire church was filled with laughter. Half the nobles in the Kingdom had been invited to witness Irving's humiliation.

Irving turned bright red and dug his fingernails into his free hand. With the other hand, he was holding Lissa.

It had been no use trying to explain to his father about the mistake. King Dorian had seen it a fitting punishment for his foolish son, and had decided that at least this way, he would be out of the way. Nobody at court would ever take him seriously again, if anyone ever had. He was the fool, and this was his prize.

As for Lissa, nobody had asked her. She was thrust quite unceremoniously into this ceremony and forced to marry some random prince. Her father would not be happy. He hated princes.

"Bloody do-gooders," he had once told a ten-year-old Lissa, sitting on a stool by the fire. "Bursting in with their swords and their derring-do. The bastards…"

As far as Lissa was concerned, the two brothers, Eric and Daniel, were bastards. Ving didn't seem so bad. Or maybe she was being optimistic, since she was now his wife. HIS WIFE! The words resounded in her head and she shivered.

The ceremony was over and, amid the titters of the crowd, Irving walked out of the church and back to the castle. These newlyweds were not going to be feted like Eric and Amelia or Daniel and Isabeaux.

Irving walked to the woods at the edge of the kingdom and sat down on a rock.

"Well, you're free to go," he said dejectedly.

Lissa looked at the forest, then at Irving. Then back at the forest, then back at those ridiculous freckles that loomed over her.

"No, thank you."

"What do you mean?" Irving was taken aback. This was supposed to be the easy part. His humiliation was complete, it was over.

"I mean, no, thank you," Lissa replied politely. "We're married, aren't we?"

Quite suddenly, Irving became very angry. It seemed like the whole world was conspiring against him this week, and he had had quite enough.

"You're a frog!" he shouted. "We can't really be married! Don't you get it?! They were just trying to make me look ridiculous!!!"

Lissa looked at him again, then thought of what awaited her if she returned home. Several days as a frog, followed by an eternity of waiting on her father and brother, interspersed with periods of being changed into other animals. Or she could be a princess.

"That may be, but we are married. And _you_," she pointed at him with a webbed toe, "Are my husband. So take me home already."

Lissa had very suddenly remembered something her mother had told her when she was a very little girl. Something that would turn her back into a human and keep her that way. Something that would let her be free of her father's clutches forever. She had already gotten over the highest hurdle—she was married. The rest would be easy. She may have been a frog, but she still had magic…

Irving just shook his head in disbelief, picked her up, and started walking back towards the castle. Oh well. At least he was fully justified in feeling sorry for himself this time.

"Oh, poor you. How do you think I feel?" Lissa snapped.

Irving stopped, his foot half-raised.

"How did you do that?" he queried, raising Lissa to eye-level.

"What?"

"Read my mind."

"I'm a talking frog, Irving. _Really._"

Irving considered this and decided that it was a very valid argument. Things could not get any stranger. And maybe his father would leave him alone now…

Wrong.

"Your Highness, His Majesty has summoned you to the grand ballroom," the page told Irving as soon as he set foot inside the castle.

"Oh. Want to come?" he asked his bride.

"Why not?" Lissa nodded. He put her in his pocket. Watching the exchange, the page looked a little faint.

Irving walked into the grand ballroom, dreading what was to come.

"Irving!" his father's stentorian tones rang across the room. "Come here."

Daniel and Eric were already standing around the King and looking at him nervously. They, too, were newlyweds, and wanted to be spending this time with their beautiful brides.

"I have devised a contest, my sons… and Irving… to determine whose bride is the most useful," the king began. Eric and Daniel exchanged looks.

"Now, I want your wives to all try their hands at some weaving. Whoever weaves the most beautiful tapestry to adorn these ballroom walls by the end of this month will be the winner," the king announced, practically giddy with his idea. The only thing more fun than Irving's wedding would be these contests. His green-skinned wife was going to be a constant source of amusement. And besides, it would help him choose a successor. Thrones in this kingdom did not go to the firstborn son, but to the son chosen by the father. And King Dorian was quite indecisive.

"The wife that wins," he finished, "Will be helping her husband move up a bit in the graces of his father." He winked, and Daniel and Eric exchanged another look.

"But—!"

"Did you have something you wanted to say?" King Dorian asked the anxious Irving.

"That's not fair and you know it! How is my wife—OW!"

"What was that?"

"I… nothing…" Irving patted the sore spot, right where Lissa was sitting, and was quiet. There was no use arguing. He had never expected to inherit, anyway.

"Good." The king dismissed them with a nod.

Irving managed to get out of the ballroom without hearing too much abuse from his brothers, and he locked the door of his room. Once there, he sat on his bed and took Lissa out of his pocket. Setting her down on the small table next to his bed, he began to complain.

"What was _that_ about? Are you trying to kill me?"

"No, I was trying to pinch you."

"Why?"

"Because I can weave the tapestry."

Irving stared.

"You can't be serious."

"Well, I am."

"But… how?"

"I have ways." Lissa was trying to sound mysterious and full of feminine secrets, but it is a difficult thing to do when you are six inches tall and covered in slimy skin.

Irving raised his eyebrows.

"If you say so."

"I do."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Irving got up from the bed and left the room to go to the kitchens and nick some food.

Lissa sat on the table and closed her eyes. How perfect. If things worked out, she wouldn't just be a princess…

She'd be a queen.


	4. Life's A Stitch

Disclaimer: Based on the Russian fairy-tale, the Frog Princess.

Chapter Four: Life's A Stitch

Night was rolling on, and Lissa could see the moon rising beyond the window and the pale curtain of her bedchamber.

Irving had locked himself in his own room, leaving Lissa alone. The wedding night was out of the question, or so he believed.

Lissa knew otherwise.

Bathed in the moonlight from the window, she slipped out of the green frog's skin and stood up in the middle of the room, very much human.

What Lissa had failed to tell Irving was that her father's curse was partially broken, because she was married. However, if he did know this, it would prevent the curse from being broken completely, and that was the last thing she wanted. For now, she would just keep this little secret to herself.

Lissa had very little confidence in herself or her appearance, following the many years she had spent listening to her father's and brother's insults. She had always believed that even if she could meet another man, he would never find her charming enough. She felt bad for Irving, because she felt that nobody should be forced into marriage with somebody like her. She believed herself to be unattractive, not powerful, and certainly not charming. And certainly not compared to Tatiana, her sister. Then again, there were no mirrors in Lissa's house.

If Irving had seen her in that very moment, he would have vehemently denied what her father had said to her.

Lissa had long blonde hair that went to her knees and eyes grey as a storm cloud. She was still very young, and there were freckles sprinkled across her nose and her rosy cheeks. Her lips were full and red. In all, she was very elegant and very beautiful.

Glad to have her own body back, Lissa stretched and slipped into a silk robe that had been intended for Irving's bride. The maids had not bothered to take it away, but had left all of the gowns.

Lissa was a slip of a thing, badly fed, and she practically drowned in the capacious robe. Still, it was better than the coarse brown dress that she usually wore.

She lay back on the warmed feather bed and sighed happily. She was half-free of her father, and soon, she would be completely free. Just three more months. He would never be able to come near her again. This was going to do wonders for her self-image.

She lifted her head from the bed and saw the vanity, beautifully decorated, sitting right across from her bed.

She got up, excited and nervous, and walked over to the little vanity. With rising trepidation, she looked into the mirror and gave a soft gasp.

She had not seen her own reflection since she was six, and her mother had held up a little glass disc for her to look into.

She saw her mother in the mirror now.

Tatiana had taken after their father, just like Matthew. They were both dark-featured, strikingly thin and bony, with cruel eyes and sharp features. They all looked like crows, albeit very handsome crows. Lissa had never liked their appearance, but she had been told so many times of her own defects that she was starting to believe that her family's features were superior to her own.

Now, sitting in this palace room and looking into the large vanity mirror, she knew she would never think that again.

Her mother had been like a short, sweet dream for Lissa. She had been captured and burned for witchcraft by the villagers, and her father had not done a thing to stop the villagers. Her mother could not defend herself, because she was an ordinary human girl. She was the only one in the family who could not work with magic.

Now, with no time to waste, and wiping a tear from her eye as she thought of her mother, Lissa picked up a brush from the vanity and ran it carefully through her hair, whispering a charm so that the brush did not run into any knots or tangles.

She couldn't tear her gaze away from her reflection. Poor Ving. He thought he was just married to a magical frog. She laughed merrily, thinking of what his face would look like when she presented him with the tapestry. The most important thing was that she would be protected from her father. As soon as the spell was lifted, she could go against him, on her own terms, and rid everyone of his curses and enchantments. That would show him. And Matty, too. And even Tati.

So what if Tati was married to the great enchanter Laurentius? Lissa was married to a prince! She laughed again, rocking back in the chair and, losing her balance, she toppled over. A great crash resounded through the large bedroom, and she skittered over to the door to check that it was closed.

The task assigned by the king—the weaving of the most beautiful tapestry—would have been very difficult indeed if Lissa was not a skilled magician. It just so happened that Lissa was horribly clumsy, one of the things her father hated about her. She just didn't have the sort of balance necessary to be good at balancing cauldrons and potions. However, she was very good at spells, and she would definitely need a spell to help her with this.

"Who will help me weave?" she wondered aloud. "Who is best at weaving?"

Then she grinned broadly.

"Come out, come out!" she sang softly. "_Guardians, attendants, come to my aid! I need your help, I need something made._"

At that moment, they came from all over: the most talented weavers from all over the world. They appeared before her, puzzled, but they knew their task and so they set to work. As soon as the night was over, the tapestry would be completed and they would forget about their nighttime work—it would seem like nothing more than a dream to them.

Lissa made a small offering of flowers to Athene to watch over their work and set about dancing around the weavers, telling them what to depict in their work and every once in a while, walking directly into a delicate piece of tapestry and forcing them to restart their work.

"Sorry, sorry!"

Meanwhile, half of the household had gathered outside of her bedroom door. Even though she had stoppered up the peephole and the keyhole to the room, the staff sat listening, perplexed, outside, wondering how one little frog could be making so much noise.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The sun was coming up and Lissa quickly waved her hands over the room. The weavers were gone, but their work remained, beautiful as anything, showing a fairly familiar story.

In the tapestry, woven from the finest silk threads, was a scene depicting a king doling out his kingdom between his three sons and their wives. The eldest son received the king's fields and he and his wife became farmers. The middle son received the charge of the purses and he and his wife became merchants, traveling to other kingdoms.

As for the youngest son, he receives, the crown, throne, and scepter. He and his wife rule the kingdom together, and are loved by the people.

Just as she was walking around the tapestry, admiring "her" work, Lissa saw the sun's rays first appearing at the horizon. Hurriedly, she folded the tapestry into a small package and left it on the vanity. Then, she seized the frog's skin that had been discarded all night long and covered herself in it, shrinking back into a frog and hopping into the large bed.

Suddenly, the door opened and Irving walked into the room.

"Don't you knock?" Lissa complained irritably, grateful that she had managed to 'get dressed' just before he came into the room.

"Well, I'd didn't figure I'd have to," Ving responded with a dirty look in her direction.

"My, my, someone's feeling unhappy," Lissa commented drily.

"Oh, shut up."

"Don't tell me to shut up! I'm your wife. And _what_ is your problem, anyway?" she demanded. She didn't think that he could have been this rude.

"Well, for starters, I'm married to a frog," Ving snapped.

"So, how is that my fault? _You_ married _me_, remember?" Lissa complained.

"Well, why didn't you just hop away or something when you saw my brothers coming? Or not talk? Couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut?" He was getting hysterical now, and she knew why. He'd had the night to sleep and reflect on what had happened. The poor boy thought he'd be stuck with a frog-wife for the rest of his life. Still, she couldn't tell him just yet.

"Look, just say thank you and get out, ok?" she hissed, now equally irritated that he was treating her like this.

"Ok, fine, I will. What am I thanking you for? Ruining my life?"

"Oh, you were doing quite well ruining your own life, you moron. Can't you see you have to make some effort to gain your father's favor?"

She hopped out of the bed and onto the bedside table, on which she sat glaring up at Ving. She reflected on his appearance and decided that, maybe, with a little bit of cleaning up, he could be quite attractive in his own right.

"I don't want to gain my father's favor!" Ving shouted.

"Well, fine, then, just throw the tapestry into the fire!" Lissa shouted back.

"Well, maybe I w—Tapestry?" he stopped, suddenly curious. "What tapestry?"

"The one your father asked his daughters-in-law to make," Lissa huffed. She was getting tired of this interrogation and would just as soon be left alone.

"Wait, where is it?"

"Over there," she gestured with a webbed hand towards the vanity.

Ving went over to unfold the piece of cloth that didn't look like much. However, as he let the folds fall out and saw the entire work, which was well over two metres in height and length, he gasped at the beauty of the thing.

"How did you do this?" he gasped.

"What do you care?" Lissa answered sarcastically. "You're married to a frog."

"No… I think I'm married to a magical frog," Ving said in a daze, still struck by the tapestry's intricacies and colours.

Lissa rolled her eyes. No wonder his father thought he was slow.


	5. Getting to Know You

Chapter Five: Getting to Know You

Ving sat down on Lissa's bed and looked, with some confusion, at the hastily-discarded robe that hung on one of the posts.

"Was somebody here last night?" he questioned her, pointing to the robe.

"Just me," she replied. "Oh, that…" She said when she saw what he was pointing at. "Yeah, I've made a mess of it, sorry, I wanted to try it on."

Irving, with a very bemused expression on his face, continued to run his fingers over the tapestry. It was _so _beautiful. He had never before in his life encountered such a thing, and he, as a royal prince, had traveled to many countries and seen many things.

"Do you like it?" Lissa finally ventured, seeing him so pleasantly surprised by the tapestry.

"What?" he replied, startled out of his little reverie. Lissa repeated her question with some irritation.

"Oh, it's marvelous!" he exclaimed. "I mean, it didn't even have to be ready until a month from now, but… It's brilliant. You're brilliant." He suddenly looked very ashamed of something.

"I'm sorry. I… God, this seems callous."

"What does?" Lissa asked, confused by his sudden change in tone.

"You're so nice, and I've been nothing but a jerk. I'm no better than any of them," he said, jerking his thumb to point at the closed door of the room, indicating the other occupants of the castle.

"You have been a little bit of a jerk," Lissa admitted. At least he seemed recalcitrant now, although that was only because she had done something for him.

"I don't want you to think that it's only because of the tapestry that I'm suddenly being nice," Irving suddenly said, just as Lissa was thinking that very thought. "I… I feel like I haven't given you a chance. I've been really selfish, and nobody's ever done anything this nice for me."

Lissa's eyes widened at the sudden change of attitude she detected in this boy. Yesterday, he had been perfectly horrible. Today, she felt like she was seeing the real Irving spilling out.

"My name is Prince Irving, what's yours?" he asked, reaching out a hand to the frog on the bedside table.

Lissa realized that they hadn't been properly introduced yet. She gave a little froggy smile and said, "Vasilissa" while hopping into his hand.

Irving looked at her with curiosity.

"Vasilissa? Awfully complex."

"Pretty much everybody calls me Lissa," she muttered. In her mind, she added, _or 'hey, you'_.

"Who's everybody?" Ving asked, now determined to learn more about his bride.

Lissa was startled by the look of curiosity in Ving's eyes. He couldn't know a single thing if he was to be the one to break the curse and her father's spell over her life. Not anything specific, at least…

"Just my family," she said cautiously. "They're all frogs, as well."

Ving would not have been surprised to learn this yesterday, but he was extremely surprised now.

"Really?"

"What did you expect?" Lissa replied, escaping his searching glance and trying to change the subject. "Why are your brothers so horrid?"

Ving decided not to press the matter.

"They're just used to being allowed to treat me like dirt. They take their example from my father." He said all this with the resigned attitude of a man who knows he is beaten and sees no point in wasting energy to resist.

"Well, why does your father hate you?" Lissa pressed.

Ving didn't seem to really care much about hiding anything anymore from his wife. "Everyone thinks I'm an idiot, so they don't really pay much attention to me. Or if they do, it's to humiliate me."

Lissa understood that their wedding was intended to do just that.

"I'm so—" she started to say, just as he said, "I guess it backfired this time."

"What do you mean?" Lissa asked, confused as to what he meant.

Ving smiled at her. "They tried to humiliate me, but instead, I'm now married to a magical, and, what's worth much more, extremely _kind_, frog. Princess Vasilissa, would you like me to give you a tour of the castle?"

Lissa drew back a little. He was going a mile-a-minute. Why was he suddenly being so nice? She felt incredibly suspicious. People were only nice when they wanted something, and nobody had ever wanted much from her, so nobody had ever been nice to her.

"I already made the tapestry," she told him, narrowing her eyes. Did he want her to improve it, or something?

Ving also looked confused.

"Did I say something wrong, Princess?"

"That!" she exclaimed, surprised by the title and the kind tone of his voice.

"What, 'Princess'?"

"Yes!"

"But you are a princess now, Lissa," he said, trying to sound reasonable. "What's so wrong with calling you that?"

"I… nothing, I guess," Lissa conceded.

"Now that we've settled that," Ving said cautiously, still unsure about why she was so upset with the title, "_Would_ you like to see the castle?"

"Yes, please," she said quietly, equally confused, though for a different reason.

The two walked out of the room or, rather, Ving carried Lissa out of the room. Both of them were not sure what to say to the other, or what had prompted the sudden change in behavior between the two. It certainly wasn't the tapestry, which was lying on the bed, left behind by Ving to show his wife around the castle.

What neither of them realized, of course, was that neither had ever really known kindness, and to have it come from both sides without much reason—Lissa's gift of the tapestry and Ving's interest in Lissa—was a surprise to both.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Where is that daft daughter of mine?" exclaimed Konstantin, rummaging through his chest for a certain spellbook that she frequently perused. "Where did she hide the damn thing?"

"Father, what if she's been captured by the villagers?" Matthew, Konstantin's favored son asked. There wasn't concern in his question, just idle wonder.

"Even she wouldn't be so stupid," Konstantin remarked. "She knows to stay away from the mortals, she knows what happened to her mother."

Matty continued to sit and eat his breakfast, watching his father go through several chests in succession in quest of the book, until he remembered something.

"You turned her into a frog, yesterday, Dad, remember?" He grinned, knowing that Lissa hadn't deserved the punishment.

"Oh, that's right…" Konstantin frowned. "Well, she'll be back before long, whining for me to take the spell off."

If you ever heard Konstantin speaking of his youngest daughter, Vasilissa, you would think he thought her stupid, incapable of anything, and perfectly useless in his household. The truth was, she held it together. Worse still, she possessed all the beauty of her late mother and all the magic of her powerful father. Konstantin hoped that by convincing Lissa that she was useless, he could prevent any sort of coup, for if she set her mind to it, she could be his equal and perhaps even conquer him.

Which was a very good reason to keep her enchanted. With every spell he placed upon her, he kept her as his prisoner. She always came to him to take the spells off, which meant that she would stay in his power. But if she ever came to break a spell he had placed upon her by external means… Konstanin shuddered. Of course, it wouldn't happen, because she was terrified of him and even more terrified of outsiders, but if it did, she would be her own mistress and no longer his slave, but his rival.

"Father, what are you thinking about?" Matty asked lazily.

"Nothing, Son, only how if Lissa dares come home later than tomorrow, I'll turn her back into a human on the spot and flog her thoroughly for being tardy," Konstantin replied, smiling wickedly so that his sharp teeth showed and his beaky features stood in relief.

A/N: Yay! An update, at last! Please leave me a review if you like the story. Or even if you don't!

With all my love,

Titania


	6. Reunited and It Feels So Good

Chapter Six: Reunited, and it Feels So Good

One unhappy woman in a household is sure to infect everyone with her displeasure. Two unhappy women in the same household, however, are a disaster, even if that household is the King's palace.

Thus, the next few weeks in the palace were a horrible thing to experience for almost everybody. Amelia and Isabeaux, the brides of Eric and Daniel respectively, were going crazy trying to complete the assigned tapestries. When they had first met, they had the makings of a friendship, since both were highborn princesses and shared many interests. However, the king's fanciful moods had turned them from that path, and they were now the fiercest of enemies.

Eric and Daniel were not helping matters, since they spent most of their time spurring their wives on. Each wanted to win the competition and gain favor in his father's eyes. Therefore, each used this opportunity to make his wife more eager to win.

Between shouting matches and exhortations to better pursuits, the palace was filled with uproar and the screams of two very frustrated princesses. The third however, the frog princess, was far from frustrated during those weeks. In fact, she was enjoying herself more than she ever had.

For while Amelia and Isabeaux rushed to finish their tapestries before the end of the month, hers had been finished from the first day. Lissa spent each day with Irving, enjoying tours of the castle and, when things got too loud and screechy, the castle grounds. Each night, she slipped out of her frog skin and sat in front of the mirror at the vanity combing her long blond hair, or trying on the various gowns that still hung in the wardrobe reserved for Prince Irving's wife. She slept only two hours each night, having grown accustomed to going to bed late after scrubbing her father's floors and then waking up before dawn to make breakfast for her father and Matty.

One day, a week before the deadline for the tapestries, when tempers were running high and nerves were very short, Ving and Lissa mutually agreed that they wanted to head out beyond the palace walls into the meadow that surrounded the palace. No further, Lissa had expressly stated, worrying still that her father might find her before the three months were up. Still, weeks had passed and she had not seen or heard from him, so prospects were definitely looking up. Two months more, and she would be free.

"What are you thinking about, Lissa?" Irving asked her, leaning back on the grass and poking at a daisy growing nearby.

She turned her head toward him and looked up into his eyes. They were very nice eyes, she had decided some time ago, and he was quite a handsome boy. He had thick chestnut-colored hair and hazel eyes. His nose was slightly crooked and freckles still stood out on his cheeks, but in her opinion, it gave his appearance character. For her part, she wouldn't change a thing about him. And she could, of course, if she did want to. She was a witch, after all.

After looking at him for another minute, she finally answered, "I was thinking about how much fun it is spending time with you."

"Of course it is," Ving replied smugly, sitting up to look at his dear little frog. "I'm the life of the party! If I was ever invited to parties, that is," he added thoughtfully.

"If it's any consolation," Lissa told him sweetly, "I've never been to a party either."

"Well, you're a frog," Ving answered her.

"I know. But even that kind of party."

Irving considered her for a minute. She was a puzzle, this Lissa. There was definitely more than she was telling him, but each time he pressed her, she would close up even more tightly than before. Though maybe not today. She seemed to be in a sharing mood…

"Your family doesn't throw parties?" Ving asked nonchalantly, as though there was nothing more natural than a group of frogs throwing a ball.

"Only when my sister got married," Lissa said automatically, not really considering how she had said more than she had intended to say.

Irving gave a crooked smile. "Now you're married."

"Yes," Lissa replied, remembering only the grand feast that her father had given when Tati was wed.

Irving looked down at her seriously. "Would your father approve of me?"

Lissa just laughed.

"No, I'm serious," Ving said with a mock frown.

"Well, of course not!" she said between giggles. "You're very much not his type, trust me!"

"Am I your type?"

A silence lingered after this question was asked. It was the closest either had come to admitting that they might be becoming more than forcibly married; they might even be friends. For Ving, the idea didn't seem so ridiculous any more. For Lissa, it was a very strange sensation indeed.

"Oh, what's that!" Lissa exclaimed, breaking the awkward silence and changing the subject as she pointed to a royal-blue carriage sliding down the road towards the castle.

Irving, taking the hint, decided to humor her. "It's a carriage, Lissa."

"Oh."

"Yep."

Another silence, longer and more awkward, filled the next few minutes after this exchange, until Lissa suddenly cocked her head towards the grass next to where she was sitting.

"Did you hear that?" she exclaimed, looking at Ving for confirmation.

"Hear what?" he asked, confused.

"The…" she trailed off, bending her head to the ground again, her sensitive frog ears picking up the soft voice.

"_Michael_?" Lissa yelped, peering down into the grass to stare at the tiny ant sitting on a leaf.

"Who is Michael?" Irving asked, bending in closer to see what Lissa was looking at. When she saw this, she swiveled around in alarm. For there, in the grass, was her long-lost older brother.

She knew that she could change him back with ease. However, her problem was twofold. She could only work such a complex magic if she was human, which could only happen at night. Additionally, she couldn't exactly start explaining her plans to an ant while Irving was sitting here.

"Irving," she said, turning to her husband. "Can you please fetch me some water?" She indicated the stream that flowed through the meadow, about ten meters from where they were sitting.

"Sure," he replied, still confused by her strange behavior, but getting up to oblige her request.

"Michael," Lissa then whispered hurriedly, as she saw him walk away. "Listen to me. It's Lissa. I'll take you back with me right now. Don't worry, everything will be fine." With that, she extended her webbed hand to the ant, and the ant walked into it. She closed her fingers gently around the creature and sat back, waiting for Ving to return.

"Lissa, I don't having anything to carry it in," Irving said with a shrug. "Do you want to go back to the castle now?"

"Yes!" she said enthusiastically.

"Ok," Irving said, looking somewhat downcast. The day had not gone over very well, and he still hadn't learned much about Lissa.

He picked her up in his hand and carried her back with him to the castle, unaware that he was now carrying another member of the family, as well.

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As soon as the sun had set, Lissa slipped out of her frog skin, slipped on her robe, locked the door, closed up the peephole and the keyhole, and turned towards the dresser, on which there was a little ant.

"Ok, Michael, I hope this works," she whispered, placing him in the middle of her bed. She started to mumble an incantation as she waved an arm over his head, just as she had seen her father do several times to herself. She hoped that she had just enough power to be able to do this, although her father had always told her she did not.

As soon as she was finished saying the last words of the reversal spell, she jumped back in fright to see her dear brother quite suddenly appear in the middle of the bed.

"Lissa!" he exclaimed, trying to get to his feet and stumbling forward. "Thank you, thank you!"

"Here," she replied, blushing, as she handed him some clothing she had just conjured and turned away to let him get dressed.

She heard the sounds of a struggle as he attempted to put the clothes on, still somewhat weak from the transformation after living as an ant for two years.

"I'm dressed," he told her, coming over to her. Lissa turned around and smiled radiantly. Delighted to see her brother again, she jumped into his outstretched arms and embraced him fiercely.

"Oh, Michael, I thought you were dead!" she said with a sigh, finally looking up at his kind grey eyes and warm smile. "How did you survive for two years?"

Michael grimaced. "It wasn't easy, but anything was better than going back to Father."

"You mean you left on your own?" Lissa asked, suddenly confused. "We thought you just got lost!"

"No, I left on my own," he admitted. "I didn't really think it out, though, since once I was gone for a week, I realized I didn't have a chance of becoming human again without Father, and by then I was hopelessly lost. Then, after a few months passed, I decided being an ant was preferable to being the useless son of a sorceror."

"You're not useless," Lissa protested, taking his hand and sitting down with him on the bed once more. "You just… take after Mother."

It was true. Michael had been the only one of the four children of Konstantin to completely lack any kind of magical ability.

"Yes, and that's why Father turned me into an ant in the first place!" Michael said with a grin. "And if it hadn't been for my brilliant, beautiful sister…!"

"Beautiful," Lissa repeated. "Hardly."

"Why, you look just like Mother!" he assured her, confirming something that she had already guessed. He was six years older than she, and therefore remembered more of their mother than she did.

"Thank you, dear," she told him, placing her little hands into his. "I've been sorely in need of comfort, and while Irving is kind in his own way, he cannot yet be a true companion to me."

"Yes, Lissa, about that," Michael said with a frown, "Can you please fill me in on who that fellow was in the meadow where you found me, and what this place is now? I confess that I am very confused."

Lissa, sighing, said, "I guess I better tell you right away that I'm married."

She looked at him to see the effect that this would produce. Michael obliged her by letting his mouth drop open in shock.

"Married?" he repeated. "But Father would never have let you get married. You're what… eighteen years old now?"

Lissa nodded.

"Even Tati didn't get married until she was twenty," he remarked. "And Father always needed you around the house, as I remember."

"Well, it was his own fault for turning me into a frog, then," Lissa said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I meant to ask about that," Michael commented, raising an eyebrow. "So you're married _and_ you're a frog? But you're not a frog right now, dearest."

Lissa then proceeded to tell him the story of what had happened to her and the plan that she had devised based upon the circumstances. During this story, Michael listened very attentively, and finally asked her a question, when she had concluded the description of her plan.

"What can I do to help you?" he asked her seriously.

"Oh, Michael, you don't even have to stay here, I'll figure this out on my own and…"

"No, Lissa, I'm staying here. I can't go back home, you know that." Lissa had to admit that this was true. "And I want to help you somehow, after what you've done for me."

Lissa thought it over carefully, then snapped her fingers to indicate that she had come up with something.

"In the morning, I have to become a frog again," she stated. "The Prince, as I explained to you, can't know that I'm not a frog, which is why I can't introduce you as my brother. But, I'll give you a uniform," and her words became fact, as Michael's simple clothes became the finely-stitched livery of a castle servant. "And as long as you do your best to fit in, you can stay in the castle for the time being as a servant and, when the two months are up, I will introduce you as my brother."

Michael nodded in agreement, then pointed in alarm at the window, where the sky was beginning to lighten with the first streaks of dawn.

Lissa gave a cry and rushed towards the chair where the frog's skin was lying discarded for the night. She wrapped it around herself, and again became a frog. It was getting quite annoying, actually, that she had to deal with this night after night. Not that she minded being awake at night, since witches don't need to sleep. However, the routine of going from frog to girl and back again was getting very old.

As soon as she had transformed, she hopped over to Michael, who was looking sorrowfully at his sister.

"You poor thing," he said with a sigh. "If that prince fellow does a thing to hurt you in any way, I'll come after him myself. He'd be a fool to reject someone so beautiful and clever."

"He can't quite reject me, since we are already married," she assured him. "Now leave the room, before he comes in and sees you."

Not hesitating, Michael blew his sister a kiss, crossed the carpet and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Lissa, seeing him go, sat back and sighed happily. She had found her brother, the only member of her remaining family whom she had truly loved and whom she had assumed dead for two years. Her happiness knew no bounds, and when Ving walked into the room twenty minutes later, he smiled to see Lissa sitting on the vanity and singing a song in a voice that, he found to his surprise, was perfectly delightful.


	7. The Rising Son

Chapter Seven: The Rising Son

Another week flew by, and Lissa could not have enjoyed it more. The days were spent outside more and more frequently, as the deadline for the tapestry became more imminent and the two other princesses became more and more hysterical, until the nerves of anyone who stayed in their presence became more taut than the shimmering threads of their looms.

And with each day that passed and the more time Lissa and Irving spent together, the deeper their friendship became, until Lissa marveled at how she had ever managed to survive before, so unhappy and utterly friendless.

As for Irving, he was becoming rapidly aware of a warm regard blossoming for his frog princess, whose quick wit, kind nature, and patience he admired fervently. What Lissa did not know was that Irving would slip out into the palace library at night to see what he could find about enchanted frogs. Much to his disappointment, he found nothing useful, and after almost a month of digging through dusty old tomes and trying to draw something out of Lissa, and failing in both regards, he despaired once more that Lissa was, in fact, only a frog, even if she could magic. As nice as their chats were, he often longed for the warmth a fellow human body might provide next to his own on cold nights. Amphibians were difficult to embrace properly…

Of course, Lissa knew otherwise, but she certainly could not yet tell him this! No, the only one in the palace who knew the truth about the frog princess was a handsome young servant whom nobody really recognized, but at least he seemed to know what he was doing. Nobody realized that each night, this young servant would sneak into the bedchamber of the frog princess. And even if they did, they would never ask questions about such strange assignations.

Each night, Lissa greeted him joyfully, and they would sit together for hours at a time, while she gave him a potion that would act as substitute for the sleep he was missing. Though she chided herself for her selfishness in not allowing Michael to get any proper sleep, she comforted herself with the thought that at least he was not exhausted after each sleepless night.

Thus, on the night before the presentation of the tapestries, Lissa and Michael sat together in her little boudoir, chuckling merrily as the latter tried to describe the chaos that had taken place when Isabeaux's lady-in-waiting had accidentally tripped and torn a hole right in the center of Isabeaux's completed tapestry.

Lissa could scarcely catch her breath for laughter as Michael imitated the high-strung princess's shrieks and the distressed lady-in-waiting's anxious cluckings.

"So," Michael finally said, after they were done laughing, "Can I see your tapestry?"

Lissa smiled at him and explained that Irving had had it since the beginning of the month, when she had given it to him.

"I don't see why you did it, Lissa," Michael replied, after a pause, during which the crease in his forehead that Lissa had noticed for the first time the week before became more pronounced.

"Because all the princesses had to do it," she told him, not quite understanding what he meant.

"No," Michael explained, "I mean, why you married yourself off to the first prince who came along. It's so unlike you. And don't tell me you had no choice in the matter, either," he added, anticipating her answer.

Lissa heaved a sigh, understanding what he was saying. While she might just as easily have hopped away and not gotten married, she had in fact stayed for the wedding, and endured herself to be married to a complete stranger.

"Michael," Lissa began, biting at her fingernails as she had a habit of doing when she was uncomfortable, "I had to do it."

"I thought I told you—" he was about to say, when she cut him off.

"No! You don't understand. You… You left because you could no longer endure Father's insults, yes?" she demanded of him.

"Well, that and the fact that he turned me into an ant, but yes," Michael replied, suddenly wondering whether this was a topic he should not have brought up.

"Well, I left too, Michael. I couldn't stand being the worthless servant anymore. And while I understand your flight, I sometimes think you were a coward to run and leave me behind. Leaving me to him! A slave envies even a whipping boy like you, Brother!" After this last sentence, she burst into tears, and buried her face in the skirts of her dress, her body shaking with sobs.

"Oh, Heavens, Lissa, don't cry!" Michael told her, very sorry that he had ever said anything on the subject, suddenly aware of how deep her wounds ran and how strong the defenses she had built up. He had never wondered how she had felt being the one to care for the family, since he had been wound up in his own misery and self-pity.

"I'm sorry," she answered him, withdrawing from his arms, which he had wrapped around her. "I didn't mean to insult you." Suddenly, the Lissa from before had returned, as if Michael's command had stopped the tears in their tracks.

"I never realized that—" Michael began, but Lissa cut him off once more.

"I know," she said quietly. "Nobody noticed me much before, and they still don't." Suddenly, there was a gleam in her eyes, as she stared at a spot far beyond the walls of the room, seeing something that Michael could not. "But they will soon."

With these ominous words, she sent Michael off to his own chambers for some proper rest, while she herself settled into the bed for an hour or two, to prepare her for what was sure to be the excitement of the next day.

Michael withdrew, but not before looking back with regret at his younger sister, whose blonde hair formed a shimmering halo on her pillow, and whose cheeks were still marked by the tracks of that sudden thunderstorm that had burst from her without warning and disappeared just as quickly.

"Good night, Lissa," he whispered, leaving.

She said nothing, but kept her gaze fixed on the canopy over her bed, staring at it with the intensity of somebody deep in thought.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Lissa had wrapped herself in the frog skin long before the sun rose that night. She did not want to risk a nervous Irving blowing into the door and seeing her. Of course, she was wrong to assume this for two reasons. First of all, he had no reason to be nervous. No matter what her sisters-in-law might have created, her own tapestry would be unrivaled. And second, Irving had developed certain manners that he had lacked before, and he would never now dare to enter her room without knocking first, out of respect for her.

And so, several hours after the sun had risen, Lissa heard a knock on her door. As she called out, "Come in!", the door opened and Irving walked in, wearing a very smart tunic and looking much tidier than usual, with his hair cut shorter and brushed carefully. He walked with a certain pride that had only developed in the past few weeks spent with Lissa.

"You said I should make an effort with my father," he told her, interpreting her silence as astonishment at his change in appearance. "So I got a haircut. What do you think?"

Lissa was silent, however, not because she was shocked by the change, but because she suddenly saw in Irving something that nobody had ever before seen in him, including herself: a prince of the purest blood, with a bright future ahead of him. This change from foolish youngest son to noble prince had not been an instant transformation, and it was not yet complete, but still Lissa was astonished. She had not even noticed in the past month just how Irving had changed during the time they had spent together.

Of course, she had also changed. She had been able to eat anything she wanted, conjuring up fabulous dinners for herself in the night. Her own pride had been supported, and she also walked with that look of nobility and grace that is only earned after a great deal of suffering is replaced with joy. Even her vanity mirror could not show her the full extent of this change.

"Hey, Lissa?" he asked, still waiting for an answer, and checking to see that she was fine. "Lissa, you may be able to read minds, but I can't. What do you think?"

She shook herself a bit, then replied, stammering, "Fine, you look fine…"

"Thanks, I think," Irving said, not sure whether 'fine' indicated that he was not doing enough. "Shall we go down to breakfast? Father wants to see the tapestries after that."

"Of course," Lissa replied, regaining her composure somewhat. "We'll go down now."

Irving took her in his hand with a smile and placed her gently in his pocket, then strolled down towards breakfast with a bright smile. Everyone who saw him was astonished at the change that had been wrought in such a short time.

Change in ourselves is least detected by those with whom we spend the most time. Thus, it had taken a haircut for Lissa to see the transformation that had been before her every day for a month, bit by bit. But nobody else in the castle had bothered to pay much attention to Prince Irving that month, and he had done his best to avoid detection. Today, however, he came down to breakfast looking bright and happy, a feeling that nobody else in the hall seemed to share on that day.

The King, his brothers, and the courtiers stared at the youngest prince with wide-open mouths, wondering what had happened to cause this marvelous change. Where before he had been sulky and prone to sarcastic humor, he was now merrily discussing the weather with his neighbor at the table and every once in a while making quips about the state of the roads.

It was a very nice breakfast, but only Irving and the servants knew it. The former because he had scarfed down two plates full of meats, cheeses, and rolls; the latter because they had eaten all the leftovers that had been abandoned, uneaten, by the astonished courtiers.

After breakfast, the King declared that all of his sons were to meet him in the main hall with their wives, and their wives were to bring their tapestries. Finally, he invited the courtiers to join him. King Dorian said all of this with a shaky tone, trying to recover from the shock of seeing Irving so confident and happy. What had happened? Had the frog croaked? He drew his hand across his sweating brow, hoping that his schemes for embarrassing his own child would not backfire on him. Besides, what kind of tapestry could a frog have made? It was a frog!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Irving ran up to his room and seized the packet of fabric that had been lying, carefully folded, in his cabinet, for a month. He tore down to the main hall, eager to see the effect that this magnificent article would produce, especially pleased by his reception at breakfast that day.

"I wish you could have seen them, Lissa," he said giddily, as he walked quickly down another set of stairs and went through a corridor that was decorated with tapestries from years before. The greatest of them looked like the handiwork of a blind man compared to Lissa's masterpiece.

"I didn't need to," she said calmly. "I'm glad that you're happy."

"Oh, Lissa, I wish I could hug you properly!" he exclaimed.

"Let's give him the tapestry first, and work out those knotty details later," she replied dryly.

Irving grinned down at his pocket and hurried onwards. He stepped into the main hall through a side door and saw his brothers with their wives. Next to each couple there stood a large rack that supported a large tapestry. A third rack, much smaller than the other two, stood empty and waiting for Irving's contribution.

"Father," Irving said, frowning at the empty rack. "My wife's tapestry can't possibly fit this!"

The court, remembering, at these words, Prince Irving's ridiculous situation, started tittering softly, dispersing some of the tension that had lingered since breakfast.

"Go on, laugh," Irving muttered under his breath, loud enough only for Lissa to hear. She marveled at the challenge in his tone.

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King Dorian was having a terrible day. First, his good-for-nothing son showed up looking respectable, for the first time in his life. And he not only looked the part, but also seemed to be acting appropriately.

He had completely eschewed breakfast from shock and was now dealing with the consequences. He hated it when his stomach grumbled, since it made him feel much less regal. Kings were not supposed to suffer from such horrid afflictions as hunger.

Now, he was staring at the tapestries made by his two daughters-in-law, and wondering whether they were absolute oafs. Every woman knew how to do needlepoint, and even the simplest one could have gotten a simple pattern right. Isabeaux's tapestry was a repeated pattern of blue flowers on a yellow background, stitched painfully and quite crookedly. Daniel had his arm through the crook of her arm, but kept looking at the frightful tapestry with a grimace.

As for Amelia's! It was not even a tapestry, and it certainly wasn't fit for hanging on a wall. Perhaps it might do as a rug in the kitchen, but apart from that, the horrid concoction looked like brown, green, and yellow threads had thrown themselves together and then found each other's company unbearable and had decided to separate, but not before becoming completely entangled. Eric's grimaces were even more pronounced, and he did not even bother to feign affection or gratitude. Amelia was pouting.

As King Dorian saw his idiot son come through the door, carrying a square of something shimmering, he wondered where on earth Ving had managed to get hold of something. Perhaps some maid had obtained it for him? Yet he felt a certain sense of dread as he looked at the small square of cloth.

When Irving complained about the size of the rack, which was only half a meter in height, King Dorian felt his spirits to be somewhat refreshed once more. The shimmering square in Irving's arms did not threaten so much as it made his idiot son look foolish for even trying.

"Where can we possibly find something even smaller?" King Dorian said with a laugh, encouraging everyone else to join in the fun of mocking the idiot prince.

"Did I say it needed to be smaller?" Irving suddenly said, with an innocent air. "No, no, it needs to be much larger! Though perhaps something like that can't be found…" He paused and looked around the hall. Then, pointing to the wall behind himself, he handed the square of fabric to a servant and told him to hang it on the wall.

"Give it up, boy," King Dorian said, as a tremor of fear ran through him once again. What was he up to? If this tapestry was even passable, he would be obliged to name the frog princess as the winner, since Amelia's and Isabeaux's were terrible. But how could it possibly…?

The king's thoughts were interrupted by a collective gasp from the court. The tapestry had been unraveled and it hung on the wall, gleaming and winking as the colorful threads caught the morning light streaming in through the windows.

"How is this possible?" King Dorian murmured, as Eric and Daniel both wailed out about how this was unfair and how Ving was clearly a cheat.

"Declare her the winner," Ving demanded, producing the frog from his pocket. "She did this."

The word 'witchcraft' bounced through the room. Yet every eye was on the incredible tapestry, which was breathtakingly beautiful. Even Irving stared at it for a minute, since he had only seen it laid out on the floor, not hung up properly on a wall.

"Frog, did you do this?" King Dorian demanded, feeling somewhat foolish. Still, who else could have produced such a beautiful thing?

"Yes, Your Majesty," the frog replied with perfect manners and a lilting voice. The crowd drew back, startled. "And my name is Vasilissa, in case you were wondering…"

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope to update this more regularly in the future, as I now have a clear idea of what is going on… Please leave me a few words or pass the story along to your friends. I hope you enjoy it!

-Titania


	8. The Shirt Off His Back

Author's Note: To all my readers, I apologize for the long delay. Somewhere between starting this story and now, I got a 90 hour-a-week job, then quit to go to graduate school, where I'm currently enjoying something resembling a holiday. I rediscovered this story flipping through my old files and decided that it might be fun to keep it going.

I hope that you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. All questions will be answered in due time, I assure you, especially concerning the attitudes of the witch-fearing humans towards a magical frog and the nature of Lissa's curse. If anybody wants a spoiler, check out "The Frog Tsarevna". For the next challenge, I've conflated two versions of the story. Usually, the first challenge is baking a loaf of bread and the second challenge is making a beautiful tunic for the king or a tapestry/rug. To be honest, baking just seems like one of those old-fashioned skills a woman just has to possess and I'm sure you'll agree that Vasilissa is not quite the kind to throw away her skills on baking.

And now, back to the show!

Chapter Eight: The Shirt Off His Back

That night, Lissa sat at her vanity and stared into the mirror with glazed eyes, recalling the events of the day after her tapestry had been unveiled. She didn't know whether to be satisfied, terrified or furious, and was switching between the emotions rapidly. She would get a taste of each before moving on to the next, in response to the various occurrences that had taken place. She told herself that she could not feel all three simultaneously, and she was sure that her husband was doing his own fair share of switching between emotions. He was as tied up in this as she was now.

Tonight, when Michael had come to her room, they had simply sat in silence, marveling at the way people could be sometimes, ranging from unbelievably stupid to incredibly cruel, and above all the ignorance that seemed to pepper almost all human behavior.

Immediately after Lissa had spoken to the king, a furor had erupted in the hall.

"Burn the witch!" shrieked several voices.

"It's an evil omen!" exclaimed another.

Somehow, in the call to violence, somebody had started to spread the idea that the tapestry was enchanted and would harm the kingdom if left hanging on the castle wall. Although at the first sign of real violence directed at Lissa, Irving had been quick to stow her in his pocket and flee upstairs, she had managed to see the gorgeous hanging torn from the wall and shredded under the courtiers' hands.

Ving deposited her in his own bedroom and locked the door, for her own safety, he assured her, then went back downstairs to see the result of the riot and wonder what the outcome would be for his dear little frog. He would later recount to her his father's anger at the frenzied mass that had destroyed so beautiful a gift.

As it turned out, much to the surprise of Ving, the king had himself experienced the beneficial nature of magic, something to do with a misshapen horse, a wolf, and how he married the late queen. King Dorian briefly recounted some of these tidbits in between vituperations against his idiot courtiers. Although Ving had only ever seen the foolish and power-mad nature of his father, he now witnessed something altogether different. His father had been able to calm the people around him by explaining that enchanted animals were the gift of God to the royal family and any violence against such creatures would be seen as nothing less than treason.

The prince, surprised by the words and the effect that they had on the crowd, thought he would weep with gratitude for his father's quick thinking. He could easily imagine this crowd storming the castle, demanding that Lissa be handed over for execution, and for the first time, he was grateful for his father's quick, if sometimes overbearing, talent for invention.

As the crowd in the hall dissipated, a young servant that Ving had previously glimpsed but had never really noticed approached him.

"Is the Frog Princess safe?" he asked, not a tone of mockery in his voice, which was almost trembling.

"Of course," the prince replied, surprised and touched by this concern from a lackey. Here was a fellow who could appreciate how special a frog Lissa was, and he internally noted to reward the fellow somehow at a later date for not being swept up on the wrong side of the panic.

Meanwhile, King Dorian, very red in the face and still thoroughly furious that his court had been thrown into chaos by as simple a thing as a magical frog, was staring glumly at his sons.

He knew better than most what the beautiful tapestry meant for his youngest son. He should have seen it coming, he thought to himself. Hadn't he also been the youngest son, not expected to succeed? Hadn't he triumphed with some supernatural help?

The part that confused him was that the frog was already married to his youngest boy. If the frog was to follow in the tradition of her magical beast-fellows, wouldn't she be required to find a princess for the future king? Surely a frog couldn't be a queen!

Still deep in thought, he waved the three boys over. Amelia and Isabeaux hung back, still fuming at what they saw as their shaming. They were not going to be the biggest fans of the green princess, that much was certain. Just at that moment they were concocting a plan to keep a much closer eye on the frog.

"My sons, the clear winner of the contest was Irving's son, the frog," King Dorian said wearily. "However, given the chaos that erupted at that last contest, let's keep this next one to ourselves, shall we?"

Immediately, all three of his sons started to shout.

"—not fair, I already won!"

"—just want to enjoy being _married_, Dad!"

"I'm the eldest! Why are we having this conversation?"

"Silence!" the King shrieked, not at all regally. This day was wearing on his nerves, and he considered summoning the little Humpbacked Horse briefly, to render every singly occupant of the castle mute for just a few moments so he could think. The wheels in his head were creaking, like a badly oiled carriage gear, and he suspected the noise was somehow audible to the people around him. He really hated feeling like this.

He also really hated his stupid younger son, whom fortune was favoring. Well, fortune had not won yet. He'd see how long he could keep them going. He may not want harm to come to the enchanted frog, but that didn't mean he wanted Irving inheriting the crown. He'd take precautions.

"Your wives are to make a tunic for me," he finally said, his brows furrowed. "It will be the finest tunic ever produced by human hands and I shall wear the winning tunic as a symbol of the favor I shall show to my successor's wife. Your wives will have one week to produce this work."

The elder boys exchanged a look. Even they knew that the magical frog was going to produce a finer tunic than either of their wives could hope to do. Surely their father realized this, too.

"That will be all!" he exclaimed, and motioned for them to depart, still grumpy at the general turn of events. What had started out as a hilarious joke about a man marrying a frog was not slowly unraveling before him. _Well, damn_, the king thought, how was he supposed to know that a talking frog would be magical?

Clearly, there had been reasons for the popularity of King Dorian's youthful epithet of "Dorian the Moron".

Ving had gone upstairs immediately, grinning, already knowing that his brilliant and magical frog wife would be able to spin out the tunic overnight and they would have another great week of chatting about the anxious princesses struggling to thread needles and poking themselves in the effort to make something resembling a passable shirt, let alone a proper tunic fit for a king.

He unlocked his door and walked in, still grinning.

Lissa glanced up at his entrance and, seeing the expression on his face, but also sensing his thoughts, felt herself harden a bit.

"Come to your froggy to do your chores for you, is that it?" she grumbled.

Ving's smile slipped.

"What's wrong with you, all of a sudden?" he asked, still cheered by his thoughts and forgetting that less than an hour ago, Lissa had been in danger of being torn apart by an angry mob just like her tapestry. He also didn't know that the mob had reminded her of her mother's untimely end.

"Gee, I can't imagine, Irving," she replied sarcastically. "Might be that my life was in danger about an hour ago."

"Oh, that's all past and done!" Ving said breezily. "Look, my father explained to them that you're charmed and they can't harm you without incurring a treason charge, so you're completely safe."

"Oh, really?" Lissa said, equal parts annoyed and intrigued. "And what made your idiot father suddenly find a place in his heart for little old me?" 

Her tone finally poked a hole in the balloon of happiness that had been filling Ving since he had been downstairs.

"I don't know why you're still so ticked off, but for your information, my father was helped out by a magical pony or something, so he knows a thing or two about magical beasts, and he has your best interest at heart," he said, hoping his smirk conveyed his attitude well enough. He didn't need to hear this kind of attitude from a frog, who should be grateful to him, really.

"Oh. _Oh_," was the reply he received. "Magical _beasts_. I see. Well, _this_ magical beast is going to go to her room now and prepare to work on your tunic," she said, mimicking a curtsy as best as a frog could. "Meanwhile, the _beast_," Lissa repeated the word, spitting it out with as much fury as she could, "while she is working, is going to wonder why your father, if he likes you so much, would set up another contest that I would clearly win and whether he doesn't have other plans for you and for me."

With that, she hopped from the bed onto the floor and maneuvered her way around the door and to her room. There, she waited until nightfall, when she rapidly removed the frog skin and locked the door, stopping the keyhole and waiting for Michael's carefully signaled knock.

They had discussed the matters of the day after their little silent reverie, and Lissa had turned to him sadly, finally.

"He doesn't think of me as anything more than a frog," she sighed.

"Well," Michael hated to say this, but it was the truth, "Isn't that what you want? If he suspects you are really a woman, won't you be unable to break the curse?"

Lissa had to agree, but then she brought up her second major anxiety. The tunic would take moments, since it would be much simpler than a tapestry. However, her bigger worry was the meaning of the king's action.

"He hates Irving," Michael agreed. "Everyone says so. You're right, though. He should know that you'll win this contest, too. So why give Irving another chance to win?"

After Michael had left, shortly before midnight, Lissa got to work on the tunic, or rather, she summoned the workers and asked them to work on the project.

The result was stunning. Truly, it was the finest tunic that had ever been crafted by human hands, and Lissa made sure to add her own little touch. Any king, she thought, should fear for his throne, so she gave the thin, lovely fabric the strength of steel, that it may never be penetrated by sword or arrow. She'd keep that part to herself until it came time to reveal the tunic, and then she'd whisper the little secret into the King's ear. Only he should know, after all. Otherwise, everyone would want such a tunic.

She felt the pull of the coming dawn and, swept her arm to clear the signs of the now-vanished craftsmen and women. Then she donned her frog skin and felt herself begin to shrink.

Quite frankly, she was getting very tired of the process.


	9. Having a Ball

Chapter 9: Having a Ball

It had been two months since Konstantin had last seen his daughter, and he was beginning to be anxious. Not for her, certainly, for her safety was something he cared as little about as that of his late wife. No, his concern was all for himself. For if Lissa was among mortals, then the secret that he guarded so jealously, the secret she had learned almost by accident, could slip out. And if that were to happen... His concern was amplified by the rumours he heard from the wind, which was a terrible gossip, about a nearby kingdom and its recently-acquired frog princess. He did not dare investigate yet, for if Lissa had indeed married, she was untouchable, protected by the loophole in his own magic that granted an escape clause for the curse of frog-hood he had placed upon her. And if one more month passed, she would be human again and escape his grasp forever. This could not be.

Konstantin, despite his violent dislike of the bunch, understood humans very well. He had to time the thing properly, of course, give Lissa that bit of hope, and then snatch it so cruelly away. He liked cruelty, after all. The mere thought of a grieving prince or a suitably punished daughter gave him a warm sensation where his heart used to be, before he had transfigured it into something that would make him invulnerable.

'Father, what's on your mind?' Matthew asked, coming in from outside, where he had been gathering firewood. The pathetic sticks in his arms were not going to do, and Konstantin thought with satisfaction of the fact that within a month, Lissa would be back to do the chores and all would be as it should be. Except this time, she would never escape again. He looked at his son, and began to devise the best way for the boy to construct his sister's demise. He'd have to send him to the kingdom, a thought he didn't like at all. Still, let him prove himself.

'You're going to take a little trip, Matty,' his father told him, and the warm feeling that accompanied an evil plan rose in him once again. 'Sit down, and let me tell you a thing or two about kings and ambition.'

XXX

The beautiful tunic had been made and was lying ready for presentation to the king. Irving looked at it morosely. Lissa's mood had not improved over the last month. He knew he could have apologized and things might have gone back to as normal as things could be when you were married to a frog, but he avoided her, feeling guilty and cowardly. She hated him, he thought, and at the same time, felt indignant that a frog should hate him, a prince. And then, the little voice in the back of his hand that some might call a conscience would correct him. Not a frog, but Lissa. His own dear Lissa, who had accomplished so much for him, and all because she was kind. Because she was friendly and actually cared about him. He saw her kindness in sharp relief against Amelia's tantrums and Isabeaux's sulks, and still he avoided her.

But today, the tunic would be presented and its maker would have to be there for the unveiling. He would ensure that no harm came to her, of course, and wondered whether the superstitious court would try any funny business again. King Dorian's edict had silenced the strongest protestors among the nobles, but the servants still chattered about the strangeness of their frog princess. Irving wondered idly whether he would have to endure a contest of some kind every month for the rest of his life. Better get it over with. Maybe he could just take Lissa and run away?

'Prince Irving?'

Well, speak of the devil, he thought.

'Come in, it's not locked!' he called, before mentally smacking himself.

'Yes, I can't actually, but I guess you've forgotten. It has been so long since you last saw me, maybe you've forgotten your wife is a frog,' Lissa stated drily. Her own regard for the prince had not waned, but she was angry at his reticence towards her and his avoidance of her after she had given him the tunic. Her guards were up again, and it would take a great deal more than an apology or an explanation to bring them down.

As she finished talking, the door opened. Irving stood there, looking down at Lissa and marvelling at how small she was, sitting on the floor. She shouldn't be left alone, he thought. _I _shouldn't have left her alone.

'I'm an idiot,' he told her immediately, scooping her up from the floor.

Lissa's stomach lurched at the rapid movement, but she met his eye as he raised her in front of his face.

'I'd heard. You probably don't want to say it too loudly, though, the walls have ears,' she replied frostily.

'Lissa, I am so sorry. I've been avoiding you because... I don't actually know why I've been avoiding you. Call it my stupidity. Call it whatever you want, but please don't look at me like that anymore!' The last was delivered almost as a moan, because even as a frog, Lissa's expression was enough to cause deep anguish for the boy.

Lissa continued to stare, and finally said, 'I forgive you. I know why you've been avoiding me, nobody wants to be married to a frog. No, let me finish!' she exclaimed, because he had been about to interrupt. 'Ving, I don't want your pity, I don't want your sympathy and I certainly don't want you to act as though I've killed your favourite puppy because I'm not being chummy. I was hoping we could be friends, but clearly, that was too much to hope for. Don't worry, though, I'll be out of your hair soon enough,' she finished.

Ving gaped for a moment. Then he asked weakly, 'What can I do to prove my friendship?'

Lissa thought for a long while. This last month had been one long pity party. She had allowed herself, nestled in warm sheets and wearing pretty clothes, to feel as indulged as she could, and she had often turned Michael away, telling him she just wanted to be alone. She understood now that she had been looking for a sign that her husband could see beyond the fact that she was a frog. A stupid thing, really, primarily because she was a frog. He didn't know otherwise and, what was more, she didn't want him to know otherwise.

And that's when she'd decided that she would make it simple for herself. Once the next month was up and she would never have to don the frog skin again, she would just leave. Maybe she'd leave Ving a note about how she hoped he would be happy but she wanted to go back to the swamp or something. But she couldn't stay in the castle as a human. She'd never be more than a thing to him that way, and she would hate her husband for something that would not be his fault. Sure, he'd be overjoyed to find out she was not a frog, but a girl, and maybe he'd even make an effort to reconnect or win her friendship, maybe even her love. But her humanity, her pretty face would always stand in the way of her caring for him. So she'd leave, and be free, just as planned.

All this whirled through Lissa's head as Ving waited for his answer.

'I don't think you can prove that to me,' Lissa finally said quietly. 'I think the time for friendship is over.'

Irving nodded slowly. Well, if that was how she felt about it, then so be it. He'd find a way to win her over again. And he'd get rid of this sinking feeling in his gut, that left him wanting to punch Eric, Daniel and himself, all simultaneously. Really, mostly himself.

'Time to go,' Lissa reminded him. 'Try and pay attention, we still don't know why your father persists in setting himself up for failure by putting on these competitions that I will always win.'

XXX

The truth was, Dorian himself did not know. He wanted to be rid of the frog, and Irving, but he couldn't do so without danger to himself, so he was stalling. And hopefully getting some magical gifts in the process. The tapestry was beyond repair, true, but he wanted to see what the frog made of his tunic idea. Next he'd ask for some armour, he thought, though it would hardly be a fair contest for Amelia and Isabeaux, who weren't exactly trained as smiths.

Just as the very funny and satisfying picture of the shriek-prone Amelia bent over an anvil, accidentally striking her finger with a hot poker, crossed his mind, someone entered his field of vision. This was surprising, as he was locked in his private study, and nobody would have been able to enter, let alone so soundlessly. Yet here was this boy, youngish and dark, very dark.

'King Dorian?' he asked meekly. The kid looked terrified, as if he was going against every impulse by being here. Good, thought Dorian. I'll have him in the stocks for a week for intruding. He opened his mouth to bellow to the guards, but found himself completely voiceless. This was an unexpected development.

'No, no, we don't want any of that,' the kid told him, nervously darting his eyes to the door and then back to the rapidly-reddening face of the king. 'I'm here to help you, and if I have to kill your soldiers while trying to do so, you'll doubt my motive.'

More magic, thought Dorian. Well, maybe he could take advantage of the situation and find out from the kid, once he got his voice back, how to get rid of a frog and an unfortunately lucky son.

'Your problem is also my problem, you see,' the kid continued. 'You've got a frog you need to get rid of, and I happen to need the same frog.'

Dorian was beginning to calm down, liking the way this conversation was going.

'So I'm going to tell you what you do. You're going to throw a very big ball in a month and make sure every one of your son's wives attends. All of them. On pain of death, if you have to. Yes,' he added, seeing the king mouth 'frog', 'the frog, too. I'll take care of the rest, don't you worry.'

Dorian wondered at how a ball would solve anyone's problems, apart from the merchants who would benefit in pecuniary ways from a grand royal ball. So he said so, and found his voice was back.

'I don't see how that helps anyone.'

Before he could say more, the kid had narrowed his mean little eyes and was glaring at him.

'I didn't ask you to insert your views, mortal,' he menaced, much of the fear leaving him as he realized that he was far more powerful than this fat man who could only threaten other mortals. 'I told you what you're going to do. Do it well, and everyone is happy.'

'What about my son?' Dorian asked impulsively, surprised at himself for caring about Ving's well-being all of a sudden.

'You do this right,' the boy responded with a wicked smile, misunderstanding the question based on what his father had told him about the king's opinion of his youngest, 'I can make your son go away if you want. Maybe he can come live in a pond with his wife, what do you think?'

Dorian nodded dumbly. What a creep, he thought inwardly. No, he wouldn't be crossing him, and it would probably benefit him, getting the frog and Irving out of the way. A ball it would be.


End file.
